Night Visions Album Story
by MeteorSmashStories
Summary: On September 4, 2012, alternative rock band Imagine Dragons published their Night Visions album. It was most definitely a major hit. What if Dan Reynolds, the singer of Imagine Dragons and the co-former of the band was the character in a story? What if every chapter was based on a song in the Album? First chapter equals the first song on the album, second chapter, second song, etc.
1. Explanation

PLEASE READ THE WHOLE CHAPTER BEFORE GOING TO THE NEXT CHAPTER OR LEAVING THIS STORY

Before I even start the story, I want to explain what it is.

You clicked on this and saw that one of the genres was adventure, makes sense, since, if you don't know, I'm only really good at making adventure stories. If you've read one of my other stories, you'd know.

But the other genre is hurt/comfort. Why?

Remember, every word in this story is based off of a song, whether it's Chapter 1 for Radioactive, chapter 5 for On Top Of The World, or whatever. All of it is based off of a song made by Imagine Dragons. And those songs are pretty emotional, definitely more emotional than any song you'd hear on the radio today.

With that being said, I want to clarify what this is about, since I didn't have enough room in the summary.

This story turns singer Dan Reynolds into the main character of a book series. Yes, I will make other series with Dan as the main character based off of other albums.

Based on the songs, I want to make this kinda a little bit into the future, but not a lot. Other books will take place centuries into the future. My story will take place in the year 2018, which isn't too long from now, February 1, 2016. Or, whenever you're reading this. I'm just publishing this chapter on February 1.

Dan Reynolds will be a soldier, since one of the songs in the album, America, is about soldiers in the American army and is actually a sponsor of the Wounded Warrior Project. Also, I thought it would kinda fit the story that is in my head. He'll be fighting in a war, going through both physical and emotional pain, have to overcome hardships, stuff like that.

Based on what you heard, if you really, really don't like how this story will end up, and you don't even want to give it a try, fine with me. You don't have to like it. I'm making this for both myself and the people that do like it. But before you leave a hate review, talking about how crappy this story is and how awful I am, stop for a second. You are judging me based on a short summary and explanation of how this story will play out, and not even that really told too much about the story, just the structure. You can't judge me based on that.

If you don't want to read this story, don't. But don't be a jerk about it.

If you do like the sound of this, great. Thanks to you. Keep reading, and leave some positive criticism, but not "Mai Gawd, bro. You suck, go die, thus story is for gay people." First off, nothing bad about gay people. Second of all, I'd probably end up reporting it or whatever.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy the story.


	2. Prologue

Dan Reynolds was strong as a child. He always won wrestling tournaments, he could run the fastest, punch the hardest, bike the longest, throw the farthest. But he never focused on his strength. He liked music. He was a good singer, and could play the guitar and drums.

Music was the only thing that comforted him. His little brother, who had Autism, sometimes didn't understand things. His parents never had time for him.

And so therefore he depended on music.

After school, he'd listen to U2, and David Bowie, and other rock musicians. When he entered high school, he would be bullied. His brother, who already struggled so much, was suffering from a mental disorder and couldn't help him with his problems.

So he solved it on his own, beat up the kids, and as a result only got bullied more.

When he turned 17, he joined the army. He had a strange reason for doing this.

"I was bullied. I consider terrorists and tyrant political rulers like Hitler to be bullies. Anyone that hurts others is a bully. And nobody deserves to be bullied, which is why I want to fight for that freedom.

Dan had the strength to be a soldier. He discovered he had good aim and was not too bad of a pilot, either.

 **None of this is true, guys. Dan is not a soldier. He did not join the army at age 17. I don't think he has an Autistic brother, either. This is a fictional story, remember?**


	3. Song 1-Radioactive

I wake up on the cold, hard bed. The other prisoners do the same. We all look similar. Cuts and bruises mark our worn-out bodies. We're still strong, but hunched over, with dark circles under our eyes from a lack of sleep. And then there's the other problem.

We all have to wear torn up suits covered in dust. Then the enemy comes into the room.

The world is at war. After hearing stories about World War II, I'd think we'd never go down that path again. But what started as ISIS lead to World War III, which lead to a massive brawl between countries. America is weak right now. So many soldiers have been put in prisoner camps. Other soldiers have died, and the ones that are alive and free are in hiding to train.

Only few are actually fighting, and I'm not one of them.

A young Islamic man comes in along with others, but this one seems especially young. Maybe 16 or 17. He comes up to me, and shoves me towards the door.

"Go!" He shouts and shoves me harder. I don't.

He hits me hard and shoves me. Other soldiers are getting shoved around as well. It isn't unusual for us to be treated this way. I've been here for about a week or two, the shortest time out of all of us, and I already feel pain and weakness like never before.

We're guided to a dining hall. There aren't any seats, and the table is just a long wooden board flat on the ground. It isn't a hall either, since we're outside and there's no roof. It happens to be snowing and it's freezing cold, but it won't make a difference. We'll still have to work. And I'd rather eat in the cold than eat nothing at all.

We get a bland meal of rock-hard bread, a small container with old water, and a tiny pot of cold broth.

The harsh soldiers that are in charge of the camp bark orders around. We're forced to do jobs like collecting wood for _their_ fireplace, cutting stone for _their_ buildings. If we don't do it, they gather everyone around and we all have to watch as the person that disobeyed the order gets beat. Hard.

I sit around, not doing my work. I should be unloading wood from a truck and transporting it to a different one. I don't. A strong yet hunched over man with mouth ulcers and a bleeding ear comes up to me, asks me what I am waiting forr with a rough accent. I give no response. My lips are sore, anyways.

He beats me up. He kicks me in the chest, but I bleed from my nose. I vomit everywhere. No surprise, all of us have been vomiting everywhere recently. harder than I have ever felt. I wake up. I snap out of it. I wake up more than I have ever woke lookn up in the past while. He punches me multiple times in the chest.

I go. I leave, I start doing my work. I don't do much, though. I am deep in thought. I am slowly dying. I feel it in my body, in my bones, in my head. My body is dying. One week ago, a nearby power plant exploded, emitting large amounts of radiation.

We are all radioactive. We are all slowly dying. I am, my fellow soldiers are, my enemy is. We are all radioactive, all dying.

At the end of the day, I decide that we're going to break out. When me and my fellow soldiers arrive in our barracks.

We all know this is the new age for us. We are all experiencing something we never have felt, and hopefully never feel again.

I explain something to them. We're dead if we don't leave now. We will never see our families again, never live again. I do not want to let go of myself, Dan Reynolds, like this.

We agree to break out within the next few days. One man pulls out some strange container that holds a blue liquid.

"First step: give me your clothes."

I painfully pull my shirt over my red, sloughing back. I give it to him.

Our clothes were once Grey, they're now stained with blood. But with this man's plan, our clothes will become a brilliant cobalt blue. He plans to dye our suits blue.

We arrive to breakfast the next day as a line of Smurfs. We are colorful.

The next day, we paint two long, large, vertical red stripes on our blue suits.

The day after that, we add the stars, and become Amercica. We are a group of flags, a group of soldiers, we are, in a way, indestructible.

We grow weaker every day. Yet now, we have grown stronger.

All of us are beaten that day. My whole body aches by the end of the day. I'm about to lay down when a man, no, an American rushes in.

"I overheard them. We're getting attacked tonight. Don't go to sleep."

We plan an ambush. We'll attack them when they come inside to kill us, then escape.

The sun hasn't died yet, it still lives as a crack peeking over the horizon. We hear the enemy storm down the hallway, and the door bursts open. I feel myself dying in my bones, but I attack, from my heart, with my whole body.

All of the enemy soldiers are on the ground. One of our own is on his knees, retching.

A few minutes later, we storm into their armory. We grab guns. Someone forces a pistol into one of my hands. I grab a slim rifle in the other, and when we have all geared up, we storm out.

Hours pass. We fight until the sun disappears, and even after that.

But when the last enemy soldier is shot dead, we make our escape.

We leave, radioactive yet alive, nearly dead but free, we are American soldiers, we are radioactive.

 **Lyrics to "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons**

 ** _I'm waking up, to ash and dust, I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust._** ** _I'm breathing in the chemicals._**

 ** _I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus._** ** _This is it, the apocalypse._**

 ** _I'm waking up._** ** _I feel it in my bones, enough to make my system blow._**

 ** _Welcome to the new age, to the new age,_** ** _Welcome to the new age, to the new age._**

 ** _Whoa, whoa, I'm,_** ** _Radioactive, radioactive._** ** _Whoa, whoa, I'm,_** ** _Radioactive, radioactive!_**

 ** _I raise my flag, dye my clothes,_** ** _It's a revolution, I suppose._** ** _We're painted red, to fit right in._**

 ** _I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus. This is it, the apocalypse._**

 ** _I'm waking up. I feel it in my bones, enough to make my system blow._**

 ** _Welcome to the new age, to the new age, Welcome to the new age, to the new age._**

 ** _Whoa, whoa, I'm, Radioactive, radioactive. Whoa, whoa, I'm, Radioactive, radioactive!_**

 ** _All systems go, sun hasn't died. Deep in my bones, straight from inside._**

 ** _I'm waking up. I feel it in my bones, enough to make my systems blow._**

 ** _Welcome to the new age, to the new age, Welcome to the new age, to the new age._**

 ** _Whoa, whoa, I'm, Radioactive, radioactive. Whoa, whoa, I'm, Rdaioactive, radioactive!_**


	4. Song 2-Tiptoe

Morning comes. Last night, we agreed that the first of us to wake up has to wake the rest. In the fight, we lost 4 soldiers, and one died because he was radioactive. All of them were a loss.

But I can't dwell on that. I am the first awake. I grab a nearby fallen branch and smash a nearby tree. A loud _crack_ rises into the air, and the soldiers wake slowly.

We keep moving. The morning sun guides us through the forest. Slowly, I become more awake, more alert. My whole body is still in pain. Still radioactive. But that will get better, as long as I ignore it and keep moving.

We walk for hours, eating nothing and drinking only a small, small amount of water. When I say small, I mean small. A couple sips over the past many hours. I've been worse. I have a small fire burning in my heart, one that is keeping me going, keeping me strong. I'm free.

We still have to get out of Syria. If we can make it to Europe, we will be fine. We can take a plane back to the USA. If we don't die first.

"ISIS base up ahead! Everybody in the woods, sneak past 'em!" One soldier spoke.

My main rifle was damaged during the escape fight. I grab my pistol and load some new ammo into it, then load it. We take to the woods. My eyes burn, I'm so tired. But I can't rest. I won't fall asleep.

We sneak through the woods. Our American suits stand out in the trees, so it's pretty hard. But I have been in hard situations. I won't let them know where I am.

We take a peek into the base, and font a soldier getting beat. We can't see their faces. They have no shirts, and the ones that do, the shirts are all ripped up. No signs of radiation sickness shows on these soldiers, and they appear to be in much better shape. Still, they look rough.

"American soldiers. I think." I whisper.

"Are we gonna break them out?" One soldier asks.

"How? Electric fence, stupid."

"Don't let them know we're breaking in. We have gear, right?"

"Half of it was destroyed in the fight."

"Can we shoot something?"

"That would give away our position! Any other ideas?"

A long conversation breaks out. I can't see how we can break them out. But when we take a look at one man's face, he's Chinese. He is on a different side. The Chinese even bombed a town in the States.

"Guys, they're Chinese! How did we think they were American?"

"They're still in a Syrian ISIS camp."

There are three sides in this war. The Chinese aren't on our side or with ISIS.

"Leave them." I say. We'd be doing them a favor, and they owe us one: stop killing us.

"We still have to sneak past." Says one man. The rest of us nod in agreement.

We head over to a nearby pool of water and try to rub off all of the red, white and blue paint. A small amount comes off.

This isn't working. I go over to the bank of the river and grab some mud and silt. The others see what I'm doing, and join me. I rum some on my face, not only my clothes. I'd say I'm fairly camouflaged.

"Let's get going," I remind everyone.

 _Please, get by. Don't let them know we're coming._ I silently wish.

So far good progress. We dash through bushes. One guard looks near us, and we duck down in the bushes. I grip my pistol, finger on the trigger. If he does spot me, I have 8 rounds. I'm gripping a Tokarev TT-33.

The man looks away. We all get down on our stomachs and continue through the woods, crawling.

One guard is around the outside of the fence. He spots us.

"Get up. Who are you?" He asks. None of us get up. He repeats himself, louder. Still none of us rise. He rushes over, a 9A-91 in his hands.

He glares at me, raising his hands. I do the same, ready to shoot. I rise to my feet. The rest rise, too. The ones that still have guns hold them at him. He frowns, then calls out.

"Here!" He fires, hitting someone to my right in the chest. I knock him out, then we run. We haven't been noticed. These guards will see a knocked out soldier, then they'll be hunting us down. I break into a run, but I'm still crouched down. We could still catch us.

Up ahead is a road. We make a dash. I'm going to get away, and nobody will know. I can't blame them. I was the fastest, the strongest, the best when I was young. We reach the road. The camp is hundreds upon hundreds of yards behind us. We got away.

A man walks up to us after about 30 minutes.

"Where are you coming from?" He asks. I don't have to lie. He has the same black and white symbol on his jacket as on those dreadful flags. He carries an AK-47, grasping it as if he's worried it'll fall out. His mouth and nose are covered by a black scarf, and he wears tan camo clothing.

I raise my pistol. "Who are you?" I ask, but it comes out as a hoarse croak. I vomit on the floor, and he kicks me. I shoot him.

We keep moving, sprinting. We run for miles. The sun sits in the middle of the sky. We near a city. From there, we can contact someone, or get on a train to Europe.

But that isn't what happens. A group of ISIS soldiers attempt to capture us. The people on the street flee. I pull out my pistol and shoot one, then take a blow in the back. I stumble forwards. When I turn, I take another blow, this time to the face. Someone fires a gun. I see one of my own soldiers fall to the ground lifeless. I turn and shoot randomly, hitting only the cement floor. I have one more shot left. I aim at someone's head, but get shoved. I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder as I hear a gun fire. I look, and a bullet has grazed my shoulder, barely even in my skin. It's in there, though, and the torn skin bleeds, staining my ship qrt and getting my arm messy, soaked in the warm, thick liquid.

I put my hand over it to try to stop the blood, and fire my last bullet into someone's lower abdomen. The man stumbles to the ground, and I kick him. His body falls, and we keep running.

We sneak through alleys to avoid more soldiers. We pass multiple groups, and they never see us. We move all day and night.

I think of my brother. He has autism. Although he didn't always understand everything that was happening, and sometimes he freaked out, he was my brother. We still did stuff together. I put him in my head, and I lift my head up. All the others are resting.

"Reynolds!" Someone whispers. "Get some rust, kid. Long day tomorrow."

I drift off, and my dream is filled of horrible images of people with radiation sickness vomiting, their backs sloughing, awful lip ulcers, dark circles under their eyes as they slowly die.

But I also dream of people like my family. My parents weren't there for me much, but my brother was. I also dream of this one girl I like. She was in my sophomore and junior years.

I want to see these people again.

The next morning, we let the sun guide us. We travel, still using the alleys as concealment. Hours and hours pass. We even travel on the back of a truck for a few days. We used to be a good 20 soldiers. Now we've lost 6. We have 14 left.

We get off of the truck. We have arrived in Europe. It's evening, day later. It took us days to get here. A few day ago, I was dying in an ISIS camp. Now I'm on my way home to America, where I can get healed. But we're not there yet. We're in Romania.

We go around asking for money to get to the US. We raise a few hundred Euros.

When we got to the airport, we didn't have enough money. All we had was money for 3 people.

We left. None of us have time to get jobs, or raise money. I want to leave tomorrow morning if not today.

Syrian soldiers come. They attempt to bomb an entire square. I watch as a young man runs in with a gun, shooting people. I try to shoot. But there isn't any ammunition in my pistol.

I throw it to the ground and run at him. He fires. Nothing hits. I start attacking him, trying to wrestle the gun out of his hands. He shoots three of the soldiers that escaped with me. They all die instantly. I knee him multiple times, and manage to take his gun. I quickly shoot him in the chest. Other soldiers are fighting other ISIS troops. We get away, saving the Romanians and quickly boarding a plane to New York. Nobody complains.

 **Lyrics to "Tiptoe" by Imagine Dragons**

 ** _In the morning light, let my roots take flight, watch me fall above, like a vicious dove._**

 ** _They don't see me come, who can blame them?_**

 ** _They never seem to catch my eye, but I never wondered why._**

 ** _I won't fall asleep, I won't fall asleep._**

 ** _Hey, yeah. Don't let them know we're coming, hey yeah, tiptoe higher!_**

 ** _Take some time to, simmer down, keep your head down low. Hey yeah, tiptoe higher!_**

 ** _From your slanted view, see the morning dew, sink into the soil, watch the water boil._**

 ** _They don't see me run, who can blame them?_**

 ** _They never seem to see me fly, so I never had to lie._**

 ** _I won't fall asleep, I won't fall asleep._**

 ** _Hey yeah. Don't let them know we're coming, hey yeah, tiptoe higher!_**

 ** _Take some time to, simmer down, keep your head down low. Hey yeah, tiptoe higher!_**

 ** _Nobody else. Nobody else. Nobody else, can take me higher, nobody else, can take me higher, nobody else, can take me higher, nobody else!_**

 ** _Hey yeah. Don't let them know we're coming, hey yeah, tiptoe higher!_**

 ** _Take some time to, simmer down, keep your head down low. Hey yeah, tiptoe higher!_**

 ** _Hey yeah. Don't let them know we're coming, hey yeah, tiptoe higher!_**

 ** _Take some time to, simmer down, keep your head down low. Hey yeah, tiptoe higher!_**

 _So I want you guys to understand that this takes me a while to do. I have to listen to the song many times, and think a lot about how I want to turn it into a chapter. I'm also still a kid, so I'm not, like, Rick Riordan or something. Don't expect me to write that amazing. Hope you guys really like this. I know I do. Listen to any songs you haven't heard of. It says the lyrics above, but the songs are really good. I know that many people haven't heard of many of the songs on Night Visions._

 _Also a little side note: I want to use all the bonus tracks, meaning I won't stop at Rocks. I want to use Working Man, and America, and Cha-Ching, those songs as well. They're still part of the album, just only included in the deluxe edition._


End file.
